Ian Campbell after some political and social battle won the dubious position of the Duke of Argyll. But upon taking possession of the title found most of the resources drained, his uncle gone missing, and the great house destroyed. To top it off, there is a troubling vision during his meditations, and news of a botanist in old Constantinople, having cultivated a previous unknown flower of black Nelumbo nucifera (lotus).

Leland Blackstone has disbanded his Phantom Brigade for some time, and set about the world visiting his old comrades. Vengeance has eluded the famous Captain, as Dr. Totentanz has been silent for some time now, the trail gone cold. Then arriving upon his next call at Phillip's home, a seven month old telegram awaits him. From Istanbul, which reads: HERE SON.

Boyan Volos as life is a mystery, the last years of the war and after were beset with requests, pleas, demands and offers from the troubled Russia, it seemed all sides of the revolution wanted The Velja Noc for something. If Boyan had responded or not, he has not said. But now even in Britain he does feel at peace, But Miklagarðr (the big city), yes, his many faces could be lost for a time.

Burt Brookfield, is frustrated, "it" for years keeps leading him back to Byzantium. The lamp always seems to leave crumbs there! Niles Conroy says there will be a great party by the Club for the turn of the decade, and there will be a special surprise to honor some of the clubs members. Perhaps this is a time, take a break from his work.

Carl Stone, has found it is difficult for a genius to find investors. Governments come and go and are just not stable enough for a practical engineer, and one must have resources for the next project. But like in art a painter needs to paint what the patron wants. However, for once, this Mr Conroy wants to see demonstration of something that Karl can really apply is genius too. But why in all places Istanbul.

Ian stepped off the train and into the dusty air of Istanbul. The city had as many names as it did smells and colors. It was an ancient city like Beijing but more cosmopolitan, worldly, and, well, imperial. This city had long been a crossroads and stood where east met west. It was a dizzying collection of cultures from all over Eurasia. Ian felt that he, outsider though he was, probably knew more about the cultures represented than many of the natives. He set forth for a hotel overlooking the Golden Horn. His friend Burt had given him the address and recommended it as a place that would accommodate such an august personage as the Duke of Argyll. Ian smiled to himself at the irony. He carried a single suit case of medium size, bound with leather and capped with brass. It swung easily as he made his way through the winding streets to the Hotel Imperiale Palace.

Ian was speaking with the concierge when motion caught his eye. Walking into the lobby was another face from the past.

"Captain Leland Blackstone, you old cad! Pardon the brogue, I've been kept in Scotland too long. What brings you to old Byzantium?"

Boyan Volos had always been at home in train stations and other crowded places. The meetings of people who'd been seperated from each other for long periods of time fascinated him. So much of a soul was revealed in those moments. Something about today seemed more important than other days, and a passing cry for Captain Blackstone soon told him why.

Volos smiles to himself and resheveled his hair, unslumped his shoulders and coughed out the accent he had prepared for the day. A reckless smile and guarded eyes soon greeted his old friend.

Karl sat in the hotel cafe drinking the potent local coffee as he added hand written notes to the engineering drafts of the new aeronautical engine that he wanted to get backing for. The prototypes on the seaplane in Zurich were small, but very functional. They were great for getting the extra boost of power to get the airplane off the water and into the air. Mr. Conroy was dually impressed with the design. Karl would have flown to Istanbul, but the standard engines on the plane were running rough and his father asked that he not take the risk of the cross-country flight. So he took the train to Venice and a passenger ship to Istanbul. He arrived yesterday and began to make inquires on how to contact Mr. Conroy. A meeting was scheduled for later that afternoon.

Karl began to roll up his drawings when he saw Herr Campbell & Captain Blackstone. He gathered his thing, left cash for his beverage, and walked to the men.

"Guten Tag, meinen Herren. What brings you, gentlemen, to Istanbul?"

Blackstone smiled despite himself, waving off the porter as he saw the familiar face of Ian Campbell. He took the ma's hand exuberantly in his own powerful grip and chuckled quietly.

"Wouldn't have thought to see you here, friend... Or them."

Blackstone gestured to either side. To his left, in a chair, sat Volos. From his right came a familiar German accent.

"Guten Tag, meinen Herren. What brings you, gentlemen, to Istanbul?"

"Personal business," replied Blackstone, a bit hesitantly, glancing at the men around him, shaking each one's hand in turn. "And, perhaps, fate...? Let's get a drink, and catch up, fellas. Whaddya say?"

"Karl! Guten tag, mein Freund! Wie haben Sie seit Berlin?"* Ian paused a moment and a bashful smile passed his face. "Apologies, Captain, gospodin Volos. I have a bad habit of falling into foreign languages. I dinnae mean to be rude. It's remarkable to see you all here. I came to Istanbul for... horticultural purposes. An old friend ha' told me about a rare variety of flower that was sure to interest me. I aim to take a few cuttings and absolutely must be the first to do so. I'm sure you understand."

*Karl! Good day, my friend! How have you been since Berlin?

"Na Ja, Ian. It has been good since the family is together once more. Come. Let us take Captain Blackstone's advice. The bar in the hotel has local beer that is passable, whiskey that is American, and a coffee that would raise the Byzantians from the dead."

The group made there way to the bar. As each order ther beverage of choice Karl continued.

"Kafe, bitte," he addressed the waiter before returning to the conversation with the group. "Botany is a noble pursuit, Ian, but I have business with mit a Herr Conroy. While my studies in Zurich go well, I do need better backing to bring my ideas to functioning reality."

Burt could hardly believe his eyes. Carl, Ian, and the Captain all here at once! He stood up from his table in the bar where he was sharing a drink with Niles. "I'll be right back", he said as he motioned towards his old acquaintances. Niles gave an understanding nod and kept talking to the other gentlemen at the table.

He approached the group excitedly, though did what he could to position his shoulder between his and Ian's eyes. He didn't want to make eye contact if he could avoid it. So many dead at his own indiscretion.

"What brings you all to town?"

OOC: Play on, socialize, find your character's voice. I will post something in a day or so.

Volos rolls a cigarette lazily with one hand. "No problem, I assure you. I have a.... facility with languages."

He leans back in his chair and strikes a match against the table. "I'm not sure all of us being here at the same time is a good sign for this poor city. Or its women."